


hell here

by daaarkknight (orphan_account)



Category: DCU
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, F/M, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21815860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/daaarkknight
Summary: Tom King's Batman goes to Hell to fight the demons of humanity, a goddess by his side.Worn down, his spirit eroded by lifetimes of pain and torture, he comes back and picks up his life and his fiancée right where he left off.Just another day in the life of the motherfucking Bat.Or not.
Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman)/Bruce Wayne
Kudos: 17
Collections: Batman, Batman Universe Series, BatmanFanfiction, Favorite Batman Fics, One Shot Wonder, Wonder Woman Love Challenges (2017), Wonder bats, WonderBat





	hell here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FabulaRasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FabulaRasa/gifts), [LemonadeGarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonadeGarden/gifts), [Unpretty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unpretty/gifts), [Mithen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/gifts).



A hell unknown, but deeply, vaguely familiar, encircles them. The deeds of mankind rot in their veins, encrusting a smell in their nostrils, something pungent, something acrid. 

"The Gentleman said he needed a day. 

"We gave him a day. Surely."

"More." Bruce marks time by his bones. He knows the tick of each hour in his flesh. 

Corpses fall around them. Greed. Pride. Envy. Jealousy. Hate. 

Lust. 

Bruce looks at Diana's unapologetically full breasts, her head thrown back, the curve of her throat. Defiant. 

He feels a tingle. 

"Why would a man spend eternity here, when he could curl up at home?" 

She looks at him, assessing. 

"Why would a man venture into the cold, unforgiving night, and put up a fight against darkness, when he could curl up in bed and read a book?" 

He nods at her, acknowledging the compliment. 

They fight. 

They die. 

Sometimes it's Bruce. Cruelty usually gets him. 

Sometimes it's Diana. Treachery. 

"We each have weaknesses."

"Our worst fears."

"No. Diana. We wouldn't be weak to them, if they were but our _fears._

"No. They are our...parts.

"Parts of us."

After that, they battle each other. Bruce defeats treachery, and malice, and arrogance. 

Diana battles cruelty, possessiveness, distrust. 

"Tell me, Diana."

"Tell me something, Bruce."

"How much can a man take?" 

"How much can a god take?" 

They find each other's arms after forty nights. 

"Bruce. I love a man. He's not here with me."

Forty days of consistent battle. They regenerate after each night, but the throb of old wounds still hums beneath their skin. 

"She's not here with me either."

"They're good people."

"Yes. They deserve better."

Years have passed. Things have changed. 

Old hearts in young bodies do battle with the rust and the grime of humanity. 

Their swords dull and sharpen. Sharpen and dull.

"How much longer, Diana?" 

Their souls are battered. Their flesh is cheap. They feel mortified. Thoroughly disabused of their old notions of humanity. Of courage. Of forbearance. 

"This place. 

"It's changing us."

Bruce and Diana. Diana and Bruce. 

No longer Batman and Wonder Woman. Now just me and you. 

Just two. Two against a multitude. A whole nation, swarming through the gates. 

"We should let them in.

"Give them a taste of what they've given us."

"Why does mankind sin, Bruce?" 

"It is in our nature."

"No." She shakes her head. "Zeus formed you clean. Ares never got to you. We defended you, the Gods. _We_ sacrificed to _you._ All for this, Bruce. All for this."

"Yes. It's enough, isn't it. To shake the strongest of faiths."

"Ours is not the strongest of faiths."

"I beg to differ. 

"We're still here."

"What is a hero, Bruce?" 

"A hero...is not who we are."

"Yes. We have betrayed, and coveted, and destroyed. But tell me, Bruce. Surely, you see. What we destroy. It regenerates itself, just like us."

"Yes. That is what a hero is.

"Someone who puts up the same fight, over and over. With the same results."

"An idiot?"

"I suppose what demarcates us is we _know._ That we repeat ourselves."

"The results are worthwhile, then?" 

"Why are you asking me, Diana? Don't you know? Didn't you... _fight?_ "

"Yes. But I was shown a tree. Purity. Peace. A promise of safety. Paradise. What would happen if humanity were gone."

"Hmmph."

"And I felt nothing."

"You are made for war, not peace."

Diana looks at him sadly. 

"No one is made for war. 

"I was raised on a destiny. Fattened with tales of horror, masquerading as tales of glory.

"War is a natural state. Peace is imposed. Just like death is the natural state of things, and life is fought for, with every breath.

"I wanted the good. I _chose_ Earth. I could have chosen Paradise."

"And now you are in hell," he says.

"So much for choosing."

Finally, the day comes. 

Bruce's sword loosens from his grasp. He looks over at Diana. _Shore me up._

The sword has dropped from her palm. She is kneeling. She drops to the ground. 

Forty years have dripped by. 

"The Gentleman," she murmurs. "Is not. A gentleman."

In that moment, Bruce's eyes are overwhelmed with the tears of a lifetime of blood and vengeance and death, followed by another lifetime of blood and death and vengeance. He reaches out to Diana. She doesn't move. 

The swarming hordes attack. Bruce leans over Diana, chest to chest. Warrior to warrior. 

_Me before you._

They tear out chunks of his back. Lust. Malice. Envy. 

All the sins doomed to age forever, pouring out of the bosom of mankind. Sins not their own. 

Not Bruce's. Not Diana's. 

Like children, like Adam and Eve, they hold hands, as their skins are ripped apart along with their souls. 

"It's not fair," he gasps. 

"None of it."

He shudders, blood pooling in spurts out of his throat. She lies beneath him, choking on his bile. 

"Diana. 

"I love you. 

"I tried to protect you. I tried.

"If this was a fairytale, my love would be enough.

"Love is not enough. It never is."

"I wish it was," she returns, pressing his head to her chest. 

"I wish our love was powerful, Bruce. I wish it was built of iron, with sinews of steal. I wish it vomited fire. 

"I wish it could vanquish all the hordes. All the ugly, all the bad. _"_

Bruce trembles, in the throes of his final gasp. A thousand times he has breathed his last. Each time it feels...like his last.

Diana murmurs under him, a soothing song. 

" _Sleep, my darling. Forever, i_ _f only for tonight._

 _"Tomorrow is another day._ _I shall do battle with you. Side by side._

"There is no one else I would fight beside but you."

Bruce dies. Diana leans her head against his, warm lips brushing against lips already gone cold. She rolls out from under him, and stands up. 

The creatures pouring out of the abyss, never make it past the gates. She knows. 

It is only a token they demand. A sacrifice. 

She shuts her eyes, and plunges her sword into her chest. Scarlet flowers blossom on the earth, drop by drop. The blood of a god. 

Bruce would awake tomorrow. She would not. 

_Selfishness._

She has created a demon of her own. To go out against the hordes. 

Tomorrow, Bruce would get up. He would see. He would follow her. 

_Cowardice._

There are battles only heroes can resolve. But _they_ are not heroes. This is not a war they can win.

Two humans, standing side by side. Humans with the courage to be selfish. The compassion to be cowards. 

Selfishness and Cowardice look at each other, the taste of victory humming in their veins. The hordes retreat.

Some wars are won by being lost. What is all of humanity's salvation, compared to two lost souls?

They roam, hand in hand. Doomed together. Forever. 

Echoes of their former voices return to them. 

"Bruce."

"Diana."

"What did we do."

A soft sadness shimmers in the lakes of her eyes. He brushes her wet lashes. 

"What we had to, my love.

"To save us."


End file.
